Candid
by Erin90
Summary: Was Ino always so shallow? A peek inside a child's mind which is never so simple.


Chapter 1

Suicide. I'm one of those people who abhor the concept. I never understood why someone would want to be not alive. I could understand depression, I probably suffered from it myself. I believe myself to be an incompetent bum. Or maybe I'm just a pessimist. All through this funk though, I never considered killing myself. I believed it more likely to become homicidal than suicidal, that was how much I didn't want to think about it.

I didn't want to listen when someone I didn't even know had killed them self, heard in the halls.

I didn't want to be shocked when I found out someone I knew since childhood, had struggled with suicide.

And I didn't want to be hurt when I learned that someone I loved had contemplated since we were children.

Both times were a betrayal.

The fourth time was anything but.

The mind numbing fear when confronted by the person who was my world, who couldn't think of another choice other than a murder suicide. The closest of contemplating suicide I would ever get; a fear that my most important person would leave me behind. That yes, I would try to fight for my life, my important person if it ever came to it. But I feared nothing more than being left behind, of one day coming home to find out that person had decided to not include me in their plans to end it.

Remember earlier when I mentioned that I was more likely to be homicidal than suicidal? I never expected to actually contemplate that. I felt trapped. I snapped, and brought a knife to someplace public. I had wanted to nip it at its source. I slashed at his stomach which wasn't even fatal, and the guy sitting next to him tried to stop me. Those two _were_ my friends. _Only_ friends. But She wanted more, she saw more than there really was. She was my important person but it wasn't enough.

She couldn't read me, didn't see me, didn't know me...and only tried to live _through_ me.

Somewhere in the scuffle I ended up impaling myself in the neck, I saw his eyes go wide. Looked at in a certain way and you could have mistaken it as a desperated suicide. Oh, the irony, I was just clumsy. Irony, really...he was the one to reveal to our group of firends that he had contemplated suicide and that day he took my role of the group. I added nicknames to my gruop of friends, gave them roles: gimpy, pale-y, dangerously skinny, prickle-y, holier-than-thou, awkward, burdened, suicidal and homicidal maniac (guess who I am). That was how I was going to remember our group.

Haha...our roles had switched in the end.

Sadly those were my last thoughts as I slid into the last _oblivion_. Or so I thought.

The next time consciousness came to me something felt off. For one I was in the middle of doing something with my hands that I didn't rember giving my body the order to. But that wasn't it.

I was standing, spine straight, something... _wet_ in my hands, wood under my toes, wrists _itched_. I wasn't in hell? That wasn't right. How did I get here? Did I live? But how did I to be _here_?

I didn't notice until then that I still had my eyes closed. Head downcast, I blinked them open. Only to see something I least expected.

Blood. So much blood that ran river over my wrists. Deep cuts on the inside of my wrists.

 _They were down the street, not across_ , I numbly thought. However I got here, I was definitely going to die now.

Deep, deep cuts, so much red. Red on such small hands. Wait. My hands were small but they weren't that small. Not only that but the shape were different. More slender and long (proportionately). As I thought this I idely watched as my blood ran down my hands and into a sink that they were hanging on. When was I so _neat_...or **_considerate_**?

Sink - Bathroom - Mirror

I looked up at the mirror expecting something _else._ Not this shoulder length messy blond hair or these light green eyes _without pupils_. I expected waist length black hair, brown eyes with an almond tilt to them. This isn't me, its too young but the same parts desperate...

My name is...

 _My name is Yamanaka Ino. I'm beautiful and confident. I'm best friends with...Shika and Choji. I prize my hair and overall appearance. I love working in my family's flower shop. I have a loving father and a doting mother but ... why do I feel like this? My name, my name sake the bush clover was meant to mean a friendship of devotion. But why am I so shallow? Was I so self-centered? Did I really come off as like that? Why am I no longer friends with my Best Friend?_

I let off a blood curdling scream.

The last words I thought before I blacked out were:

What was that? It wasn't me. But who am I? I can't remember...

But why do some of those names seem so familiar? And the face that I see in the mirror...


End file.
